


Buttercups

by belovedbey



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Cinnamon Roll Newt Scamander, Fluff, M/M, One of My Favorites, Smitten Original Percival Graves, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 21:10:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17495438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedbey/pseuds/belovedbey
Summary: Newt may be beautiful, but so is Percival.





	Buttercups

Percival Graves, after his lengthy recovery back to full (or as full as it could be) health, fixed a position within their friend group after Tina invited him to Jacob’s bakery one evening after seeing how much he’d been overworking himself. The Director always absorbed himself in whatever work was placed before him, but after being rescued from Grindelwald’s imprisonment, he didn’t do this in the same way. Before, he actually felt passionate about his line of work and didn’t want to rest until everything was resolved, which still might not have been healthy, but after, he had started to do this only as a distraction from the memories that haunted him daily. 

All of the workers could see it on the man; the dark circles under his eyes and his once confident stature rendering itself limp, and even though there was a deep concern instilled in them, they didn’t approach the man out of fear of being aggressively dismissed since they doubted the man would want to talk about his feelings. Only one of them made the effort of seeking him out and Percival was surprised when instead of asking how he was, Tina Goldstein invited him to their nightly gatherings at Kowalski’s Bakery, to which he accepted gratefully much to the woman’s evident surprise in her raised eyebrows. Over the following weeks, he became a staple in their group even though he didn’t partake in their conversations much, which was one thing that he had in common with another member by the name of Newt Scamander. Most of their get-togethers consisted of Tina speaking about what happened at work that day, Percival making a few remarks about her statements, Queenie half-listening and half-absorbed in Jacob, Jacob asking many questions about everything, and Newt updating them on all of his creatures as they snacked on Jacob’s delicious pastry creations.

It took Percival a good amount of time to grow used to a No-Maj being able to maintain knowledge of their existence, but Seraphina ensured him many times that she allowed this condition, explaining to him that she was working on moderating the laws concerning the non-magic people anyway. The portly baker didn’t dominate the most of his concern, though; oh no. It was the delightful presence of Newt Scamander that rendered him dumbstruck, and the man didn’t even have to open his mouth to elicit such inappropriate feelings within him, but the redhead remained entirely oblivious to his hardly-concealed feelings. Queenie, with her magical abilities of course, was the first to discover how he felt about the magizoologist when he became a little too involved in admiring the man on the other side of the table, letting his usually-relentless Occlumency shields deteriorate. The blonde caught wind of his thoughts of wondering how Newt would look undressed under his navy bed sheets, red hair splayed in a halo against the pillow under his head as he peacefully slept, and she audibly squeaked, hiding her lipstick-adorned mouth with a hand as she looked at him rather surprisedly. 

Recognizing his mistake, he immediately reinstated his mind shields and attempted to his best ability to prevent the skin on his face from flushing, but he came to the conclusion that he failed as the rest of the table’s occupants glanced between Queenie and him, curiously confused. 

Tina was the second to find out. She realized after her boss always kept his eyes on Newt even when she was conversing with him, which wasn’t very like him at all. Even if someone he didn’t particularly care for spoke to him, his authoritarian etiquette led to him making eye contact with the speaker purely out of respect, but when in her friend’s presence, even if she brought up the most interesting of conversation topics, his stormy eyes remained fixed on the man. She found it endearing, but she wondered how Newt didn’t feel Percival’s eyes bearing into him every minute of their meetings, watching his every movement as if under a trance. 

Jacob, only a little more observant than Newt, was the third to find out, although it was only after stating his befuddlement to Queenie about why her and her sister kept sharing surreptitious glances after Percival’s repeated attempts of starting conversation with Newt. Queenie and him were icing the deserts he freshly prepared that morning. “Director Graves is a bit fond of Newt. And by a bit, I mean a lot. He often imagines how Newt would look grasping at his bed sheets as he--”

“Too much information, Queenie,” Jacob croaked, accidentally squeezing too much icing out of the piping bag and having to wipe the excess away from the pastry so as not to ruin the design. He supposed it made sense though, since Tina always talked about how intimidating the man was while at work, but around Newt he seemed… at ease. Tina, Queenie, and him formed a sort of alliance, often plotting the many ways they could potentially get the two together.

“Okay,” Tina says during one of their plotting sessions, “We have two options, a Plan A and a Plan B; We either get Newt to see how infatuated with him Graves is, or we find a way to make Graves crack and confess his feelings to our dear oblivious Newton.” A shared look among the trio confirmed they all felt the same about which option to choose.

“Plan B,” is their unison response. Getting Newt Scamander to try and realize someone liked him would be a lost cause. Tina didn’t say anything about it, but she also didn’t mind the possibility of being able to watch her boss lose his composure. Now, as she summoned Newt from his suitcase with three knocks upon the top, they shared one last knowing smile before the case flipped open and a confused Newt popped his head out, red hair appearing adorably wind-blown. 

“Hey. We’re staying in tonight. Queenie is cooking dinner and Graves will be here around 5. We’ll eat at around 5:30. There’s an hour until then, but I thought I’d let you know so you can get ready or whatever.” Meeting her eyes for a second, he nodded at this with a small smile. She knew he wouldn’t remember.

“Thanks.” After that, he descended back into his case to do God-knows-what and Tina looked back at Queenie standing at the doorway of the bedroom, nodding her head.

“Now we wait.”

***

Percival had been warned to be as quiet as possible in his arrival so as not to alert their stickling landlady, who apparently forbade the presence of men on their premises. He found the situation to be humorous but nonetheless cast a wandless silencing spell on himself, nimble while walking up the stairwell. He felt a bit odd in his casual attire, for they always attended the bakery after work and therefore never had the chance of changing out of his suit, but he didn’t mind it that much. He wore a grey jumper that complimented the colour of his eyes, and his hair was no longer slicked back but instead just pushed back and parted to the side, framing his face. Successfully making it up the stairs, he removed the spell before knocking on the Goldsteins’ apartment door, restraining from any sort of anxious fidgeting as he waited for someone to answer, which ended up being Tina.

She raked her eyes over his figure, seeming shocked that he looked so… normal. It was nice though. “You look good,” she complimented before standing back, swinging the door open. “Come in. Queenie is just setting the table.” He muttered a small thanks in response to her words before entering the apartment, not really getting the chance to observe the surroundings before Queenie trotted up to him, blonde ringlets bouncing at her movements.

“Hey, hon. Do you think you could get Newt? He’s in his suitcase,” she asked, raising a hand to point at the suitcase on the floor in front of their living room couch. They had moved it there so they could go through with their plan. “He won’t mind if you go in.” After learning of Percival’s feelings toward the magizoologist, she set forth trying to decipher through Newt’s British accent for the sake of discovering if there was hope the two men could get together, and what she found was positive. He _did_ find Percival rather handsome, but she was upset when she learned that he thought someone like Percival--or anyone at all--would never want to date him, but that just made her all the more motivated to get this plan to work. 

Percival hesitated in moving right away. Would Newt really not mind him entering his suitcase without him knowing? Before he could question this, Queenie flitted back to the kitchen along with Tina, and he couldn’t deny his curiosity at what lay inside of the case. Making up his mind, he treaded over to the unlatched suitcase and bent down to flip it open, conscientious in his movements of moving down the ladder that waited for him inside so as not to crash down it and embarrassingly injure himself. That was not how he wanted to make his presence known. Once stable on the wooden floor at the bottom, he whirled around and observed what seemed to be a shed filled with a menagerie of items with wide eyes. He obviously knew there was an Undetectable Extension Charm on the suitcase, but he didn’t realize how extended the space would be.

The man he sought after looked not to be in the room, but he could see a door on the far side of the shed that was ajar, letting in a sliver of light that fell upon the table and illuminated a path of oddities that he had to restrain himself from inspecting. Taking a deep breath, he crossed the room and slipped through the crack after opening it a little, breathing in the seemingly natural air as he moved down the stairs, nearly stumbling at the immensity of the space that lay before him. There was so… _much_. Stuck in a stupor, he didn’t move the slightest until something tugged at his pant leg, making him jump and look down at the what he thought was empty space, only to view a small, sloth-like creature materializing out of thin air and gazing up at him with two big eyes. “Dougal?” Percival asked, for Newt had talked about his Demiguise several times to them and it looked to be how he described the creature.

Dougal only blinked and reached one of his arms up, closing his hand around Percival’s and beginning to lead him from where they were standing; Percival presumed the Demiguise wanted to show him something, or maybe lead him to wear his owner was, so he just put his trust in the creature as it led him past a multitude of habitats. When Dougal led him to a vacant, grassy hill, he was a bit confused until he spotted the figure laying in the sea of green under the hilltop’s weeping willow, its branches swaying in the breeze. The both of them carried on up the expanse of land and Percival’s breath caught in his throat as he stood over a sleeping Newt, the green behind him complimenting his warm features, one of which were the delicately pink lips that were slightly open. Kneeling beside the man, he just admired him in his peaceful state as Dougal released him and moved a few paces away, sifting through the grass.

Even though Percival possessed no artistic talent of any sort, he felt urged to paint or draw the beauteous sight before him because he wanted it to remain in some form to enjoy at a later time. When Dougal returned to his side, a tug pulled at his elbow, he looked to see what the creature required of him this time, but he only thrust a bundle of yellow buttercups into his hand before moving to the other side of Newt with his own supply. Eyebrow cocked with confusion, he looked down at the small flowers before looking back up at Dougal, who had leaned down close to Newt’s hair and began weaving them into his locks with great concentration. When he sensed no movement, Dougal looked back up and at the flowers in his hand pointedly before returning to his work. The Demiguise wanted him to join him in weaving flowers into Newt’s hair.

A warm smile on his face, he shifted so he could lean down comfortably and taking a flower, placing the rest in his lap, began doing the same, careful enough in his movements so that Newt wouldn’t wake up. The sight would’ve made any of his Aurors think they were having delusions; Percival Graves smiling to himself while he and a magical creature wove buttercups into Newt Scamander’s hair, looking rather enamoured. After fifteen minutes, the magizoologist’s hair was generously speckled with yellow and Dougal looked pleased with their work as he lightly stroked Newt’s forehead. Percival couldn’t help but join in these efforts as well, letting his fingers dance across the hollow of his cheek and trace his jaw. He couldn’t understand how one person could be so resplendent.

The thought that the people above were probably waiting for them to start eating hit him much like a brick, and although the desire to leave Newt asleep was there, he didn’t want the man to miss a meal; he knew he skipped meals at work even though he pretended he didn’t, and he had recently tried to break this habit by dragging him to the cafeteria, making him eat at least one thing even if it was only an apple. Sighing, he trailed his hand down the man’s neck to his shoulder and gently shook it. “Newt? It’s time to eat.” The man shifted slightly, murmuring something through a groan. 

Newt rubbed his eyes vigorously in an attempt to erase his tiredness as quick as possible. When he opened them slowly, he had to adjust to the bright light of the fake sun before he could see Percival leaning over him, black hair hanging down into his face on which a happy expression stood present. He froze at the unexpected company of the man he’d grown to fancy, subconsciously approving of the man’s hair so unkempt as compared to normal. “Hi,” he greeted quietly, averting his eyes as he felt his face grow dangerously warm. Sitting up, he was curious as to why his hair felt different and reached up, but Dougal, who he hadn’t noticed sat on the other side of him, prevented him from doing so. 

“Oh… um. Dougal and I had a fun time putting flowers in your hair. You look lovely.”

Attention back on Percival, he observed the man’s slight blush in awe. Before he could stop himself, Newt sat up with a grunt and ran his fingers through the man’s hair, pushing the strands obscuring his face away. “You look lovely, too. You should wear your hair like that more.” Grey met blue as both of their faces flushed, both of them surprised at the compliment, but Percival smiled widely, stealing Newt’s ability to breathe properly. The older man’s eyes sparkled and he longed to lose himself in them, and he had to stop himself from touching the stubble on his jaw. Instead, he further embarrassed himself. “You’re beautiful, Percy.”

Astonished, the man only opened and closed his mouth, unable to think of words. 

Thinking he crossed a line, Newt ducked his head, hiding behind his hair. “Sorry.” 

“No, it’s fine.” Percival took one of his hands from where they were wringing in his lap. “Just… no one’s called me beautiful before. Hot, attractive, handsome I’ve gotten, but not beautiful. Thank you. Although, you’re far better than old me.” Head shooting up at these words, Newt furiously denied his statement. 

“You are not _old_. If you were old, I wouldn’t...”

“You wouldn’t what?” Percival encouraged, taking his other hand so that he was holding both of them. 

“I wouldn’t fancy you like I do,” he admitted shyly. “You are the most beautiful person I--” He started more fiercely, but his words were swallowed--quite literally--by Percival, who moved forward and pressed their lips together, keeping it soft and loving before they broke apart for air. For a few minutes, they only smiled at each other, foreheads and noses touching. 

“You’re the most beautiful person I know,” Percival whispered back. They would’ve stayed in their position for far longer, skin pink and expressions happier than ever, but Newt felt Dougal start climbing up his back and he pulled away, watching as the Demiguise, from his shoulder began weaving buttercups into Percival’s hair. Laughing, Newt grabbed some of his own and began helping. 

An hour later, the Goldsteins and Jacob only gleefully watched as the two men sat themselves at the dinner table, hair strung with flowers and hushed praises spoken to each other. They were glad Queenie spent the two hours teaching Dougal how to weave flowers into hair. Further into their relationship, Newt liked to pretend he hated when Percival called him “my little Buttercup”, but the pink flush on his cheeks fooled nobody.


End file.
